


Aziraphale Loves

by BuchananBottoms



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 09:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuchananBottoms/pseuds/BuchananBottoms
Summary: Aziraphale is a lover of many things in life, books, good wine, Crowley, wearing sensible shoes, people- but, Aziraphale also loves food, and he just happens to have a poorly timed craving for crepes.Caught during the French revolution dressed in aristocratic English clothing isnt helping.He ends up in prison, waiting in chains to be inconveniently discorparated when his demon saves him.





	Aziraphale Loves

Animals' the angel muttered disappointed, he'd been fiddling with his chains before the executioner came in and decided to introduce himself to Aziraphale. It it wasn't his fault, really. He had just popped down to France in search of food, it wasn't his fault that there happened to be a revolution going on.

These humans were so violent, it's a miracle they got this far along without wiping themselves out. 

'Animals don't kill each other with clever machines, angel. Only humans do that.'   
A familiar voice sounded behind him, 'Crowley.' Aziraphale said in relief. The angel smiled and turned to the demon,

'So good to see you again, my dear.'   
'What the hell are you doing in the Bastille?'  
'Well, you see, I got peckish and there's this lovely little place that makes wonderful crepes'   
'Yeah Aziraphale, I think that was a few hundred years ago.'   
'Oh,'

'You know angel, if you wanted crepes, you could've contacted me.' Crowley said, and with a wave of his hand the chains fell from Aziraphale's wrists. 'Ah, Well if you must know, I didn't want to bother you' he said, rubbing his wrist, he never understood hand cuffs. 'You're too kind Aziraphale' the demon said rolling his eyes. 'Yes, yes. You've told me before, now, you said something about me contacting you?' Aziraphale said stepping towards Crowley and setting his hand on his arm.

'Yes I did, I'm not one to brag-'   
'Yes you are.'  
'You're right'

The demon shouldered the angel lightly and chuckled before covering it up with a cough and continuing, 'I'm not one to brag, but I've picked up a few tricks here and there over, and one of them might've been cooking'

Crowley would never admit, not even to himself, that the only reason he learned to cook was to impress the angel next to him, who was absent mindedly picking lint off of Crowley's sleve. But he stoped when Crowley had finished talking, and started squeezing his arm lightly.

'I'm sorry, did you say you know how to cook?'   
'why yes I did, why?'  
'Its just. I've been meaning to learn, I just haven't had the time, what with the book shop and all' the angel shuffled his feet.

'Oh yeah, how's that going? Decide on a name yet?' Crowley asked, slightly shaking the angel off, he wasn't particularly fond of being touched. 'I've been stuck between a few, and I get distracted. I'll be setting up or rearranging them and I'll pick up an interesting one then, next think you know, I'm halfway through and it's been three hours' 

'Sounds fascinating' Crowley said, turning to pick at a crumbling spot on the wall.  
'Oh it is, I'm sure you'd love it if you ever came to visit' Aziraphale said, leaving the offer open to his demonic partner.

Crowley nodded and turned away from the wall, just now taking in Aziraphale's form, 'you came to France, during a revolution, looking like that?' He asked incredulously, the angel scoffed, 'I have standards.' The demon hummed and started pacing around, kicking the straw that was scattered around the floor. 

'Can we go please? I'm still hungry and I think a might die if I dont eat soon.' Crowley paused his kicking and turned to the angel, 'you know we dont need food right? We literally don't even need air.' The angel looked flustered, 'yes, well, i- you know what I mean, Crowley. Let's just get lunch'

The demon chuckled, 'is food all you think about?' He asked in playful tone, poking Aziraphale's sides, which the demon knew he hated. Swatting his hand away the angel brushed himself. 'No need to be mean Crowley, let's get out of here before they behead more people' 

Crowley nodded, happy to get away from this unnecessary cruelty. With the snap of his finger he made the executioner and Aziraphale swap clothing. And He was rather pleased when he guards came and took the man away. 

'Karma's a bitch' he said aloud, Aziraphale snorted, 'do you even really believe in Karma?'   
'I don't think it'd be in my favour to, you know, with being,' he gestured to himself  
'And all'

Aziraphale nodded and was about to speak when he was cut off by his stomach rumbling. He looked up at Crowley 'I didn't know it could do that' the demon just looked at Aziraphale in disbelief, 'come on angel, I'll make you lunch' 

Next thing Aziraphale knew he was in Crowley's flat, the demon told him he could wander around while he made Aziraphale lunch. And so the angel did.

He wandered around a bit, taking in the demons decor, dark with splashes of red and grey, A little white now and then.

He entered a room that held within it the most luxurious, beautiful plants in all of London, but they trembled with fear as he walked in. Aziraphale didn't like that, He made a note to have a conversation with the demon about it. He stayed in the plant room a little longer, just talking to them about the weather and his favourite books, he may have mentioned Crowley a few times. When the plants were no longer shaking, Aziraphale left and walked around a bit more.

The next room he entered looked like a bedroom. Curious, thought Aziraphale, since angels and demons didn't need to sleep. Apparently he hadn't heard that Crowley had slept for a over century after being credited for The Spanish Inquisition. The room was sparse, too, and decorated in the same gray tones as the rest of the apartment. The only splashes of color were the red satin sheets and what seemed to be a journal on the bedside table that was so pristinely white that it seemed to be glowing. The angel stepped closer the the book and picked it up. It was leather bound, with a big wiggly sidgal In the middle, and 'A. J. Crowley' in the lower right hand corner. It wasn't held closed, or locked in anyway but Aziraphale didn't feel like snooping or violating his demon friend's privacy. He turned the book over in his hands a few times before setting it down and leaving. He was about to enter another room but he heard Crowley call for him. 

Halfway through lunch he asked the demon, 'Crowley?' The demon hummed in response, his mouth too full at the moment to speak. 'What does the 'A. J' in your human name mean.' He choked, 'In my what?'   
'I was walking around and I found a book, I didn't open it' he reassured, fiddling with the edges of his napkin.  
'but in the corner it said "A. J. Crowley" and I was wondering.' Crowley cleared his throat, and answered 

'the A and for Anthony.'   
'Yes dear, I know that, and the J?'  
'uh, it’s just J, really,'

Crowley was severely regretting getting wasted in the 1500's. It was a horrible idea, in the end, he'd ended up making his legal name "Anthony Janthony Crowley" and no one would ever know, not even his dear angel.


End file.
